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Travis nodded. "Fine," he repeated—and told himself it really would be.
She dressed as carefully as if she were going to the board meeting of one of the corporations her father had left her, and arrived so early that she had to drive around the block for a few minutes, to kill time.
By the time she'd ridden the elevator to Travis's floor and made her way down the corridor to his office, her heart was pounding.
His secretary—Emma—greeted her with a smile.
"You must be Ms. Thorpe." She rose and extended her hand. "Mr. Baron is taking a last-minute call. Won't you sit down?"
"Thank you," Alex said politely.
She sat, picked up a magazine, made a show of thumbing through it. She looked up, met the secretary's curious gaze. The woman blushed, smiled and busied herself with something on her desk. Questions tumbled through Alex's head.
Had Emma recognized her voice? She'd known Alex's name, but what did that mean? What had Travis told her? That an Alexandra Thorpe would be stopping by? Or had he told her more? What? What would he tell her? That they lived together? How did you say something like that? What did you call a woman who lived with a man? Calling her his "date" was just plain silly but referring to her as his lover was far too intimate. Did you call her his mistress? No. A man supported his mistress. Paid her rent. Bought her clothes. Travis did none of that for her. She'd never have let him, even if she didn't have her own money. Being a mistress was completely, totally demeaning.
"Princess."
Alex shot to her feet. Travis stood in the open door to his private office. The obvious pleasure in his smile and in the way he'd spoken the name he used for her—their own, private name—put her at ease.
She smiled and came toward him, chastising herself for having had such foolish thoughts.
"Travis," she said softly.
He smiled, too, and held out his hands.
"Whoops. Sorry, Baron. I didn't know you had company."
Alex swung around. A man smiled at her from the doorway to the outer office.
"Pete." Travis frowned. "Pete, I thought you were out of town this week."
"I was, but I got back sooner than..." Pete Haskell's smile became a grin. "Wow." He hurried forward and took Alex's hand. "You're Alexandra Thorpe."
"Listen," Travis said quickly, "I'm kind of busy right now, so—"
Alex smiled slightly. "Why, yes. Have we met?"
"Not really." Haskell chuckled. "But I wish we had, that night at the bachelor thing. The auction."
Color flooded her face. "Oh."
"Yeah." Haskell winked at Travis. "Oh, indeed. You didn't tell us you were seeing Miss Thorpe, Baron."
Travis's face looked as if it had been chiseled from granite. "I don't tell you lots of things, Haskell."
"So, what's the deal? Has this been going on long?"
Alex knew her face was burning. She looked at Travis. "Has what been going on long?" he said coldly.
"You know. This. Are you guys dating, or what?"
Or what, Alex thought, and bit back a hysterical laugh.
Travis put his arm around Alex's waist. "We're late," he said, and led her past Haskell, past his secretary, and out the door. He didn't speak again until they were in the elevator. "I'm sorry about that, Princess. Haskell's a jerk."
"I thought you didn't discuss your private life at the office," Alex said stiffly.
"I don't."
"But the auction must have been quite a topic of conversation."
Travis sighed. "Yeah, it was. But the auction wasn't exactly personal."
"What happened between us was."
"Of course. I didn't mean—"
The elevator stopped. The doors opened and a gentleman with white hair and rheumy eyes stepped into the car. Travis bit back a groan.
"Travis," the man said pleasantly.
Travis nodded.
"And who is this lovely young lady?" Old man Sullivan smiled, took Alex's hand and lifted it to his lips.
"Her name is Alexandra," Travis mumbled.
"A charming name for a charming..." Sullivan pursed his lips. "Alexandra? Alexandra. Why is that name so familiar?"
The elevator stopped again. The doors whisked open.
Travis grasped Alex's hand and hurried her into the lobby. "See you tomorrow, John," he called.
Alex kept a stony silence until he steered her into a quiet corner. Then she rounded on Travis, eyes flashing, and slapped her hands on her hips.
"Everyone in that awful place knows about me," she hissed.
"Princess—"
"Don't you `Princess' me, Cowboy!" She glared at him. "What more do they know, huh? Besides the fact that I made a fool of myself, bidding on you."
